All in Good Taste
by Boogum
Summary: According to Draco, Ginny Weasley was a hopeless case when it came to fashion. According to Ginny, Draco Malfoy was a man just waiting to come out of the closet. So why was he touching her so intimately, and why did she have the mad urge to kiss him?


This was written for my own challenge at _**The DG Forum**_. Prompt is listed at the end.

**All in Good Taste**

There was someone knocking at the door.

Ginny rolled over in the bed, holding her pillow over her ears to block out the noise. Maybe if she remained very still and silent the elephant trying to break down her house would go away.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

"Ginny, I know you're in there!" an exasperated voice called, followed by more knocking. "Damn it, would you just open the bloody door!"

Ginny clutched the pillow tighter over her head. She was not going to move. She would stay right here in this warm cocoon, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do about—

_Crack_!

Ginny let out a squeak of fright as the sizzling energy of magic filled her bedroom and the blankets were suddenly wrenched off her. Cold air surrounded her body, and the skin that was not covered by her skimpy boy shorts and camisole prickled with goose bumps. Scowling, she lifted her arms away from her head and peered through the tangle of red that blurred her vision to see a familiar blond looming over her.

"Morning, Ginevra," Draco Malfoy said calmly, dropping her blanket to the floor. "You didn't really think a door was going to stop me, did you?"

"I thought it was you," she muttered with a resigned sigh, flopping back against the bed. "You know, Draco, when people don't answer the door, it's generally because they don't want to be disturbed."

"Right, because you were so busy."

"I was sleeping!"

He raised an eyebrow. "It's past eleven."

"Perhaps I wanted to get some extra beauty sleep."

"All the beauty sleep in the world wouldn't cure that face. Now get up," he ordered, nudging her thigh with his shoe. "We've got lots to do."

Ginny sat up with a rush, meeting his eyes squarely. "Since when?"

"Since now. Astoria can't come with me to the Charity Ball tonight, so that means you have to take her place."

"Since when?" Ginny repeated, not quite able to keep the growl out of her voice. She hated it when he got all dictatorial on her.

Draco sighed. "Look, it's not like I particularly want to take you—I know what a horror it is to make you presentable for society functions—but with Astoria pulling out and Pansy still tripping around the Bahamas with Blaise, that really doesn't leave much options. I mean, I'd take Daphne, but last I heard she was still covered in spots, and Tracey is engaged to Adam, so . . ."

"So basically I'm your last resort."

He shrugged. "Pretty much."

Ginny gritted her teeth. "Here's an idea, Mr Dictator, why don't you get a _real_ partner to accompany you instead of relying on your female friends? Then you wouldn't have to go through all this hassle."

He shook his head. "You're not using your brain, Ginny. If I took a woman who wasn't my friend, she'd expect certain things from me that I am not willing to give. Then, of course, the press would go wild and make up all sorts of ridiculous stories, and then I'd have my mother breathing down my neck, demanding to know if it is true I'm really getting engaged, and why didn't I tell her, and whether I really thought so-and-so was a suitable bride for a Malfoy." He gave a delicate shudder. "I've been there before. Trust me, it's not worth it."

Ginny folded her arms, emphasising her cleavage in a way that was rarely seen on the tomboyish redhead. Draco's eyes barely flickered.

"Then go alone," she retorted. "I don't see why I should have to accompany you, especially since you don't even _want_ me to come."

"I can't go alone—that's like social suicide."

Ginny remained unmoved. She knew he only liked to have a female on his arm because it was expected. She had also gathered through a year of close acquaintanceship with him that he would probably much prefer a handsome gentleman as his plus one, though with pureblood views on homosexuality that was unlikely to happen anytime soon.

"Oh, come on, Ginny," he coaxed, looking at her through soulful grey eyes. "Think of all the times I've gone out of my way to help you."

They stared at each other for a moment—Draco turning up the soulfulness when he saw his 'I'm so pitiful' act wasn't working—and then Ginny let out an exasperated sigh.

"Fine," she muttered, "but just this once. You know I hate going to these things."

Draco smiled. "Not even just for nostalgia's sake?"

"Nostalgia about what?" she asked, getting off the bed and hunting through her drawers for something to wear, all the while muttering under her breath about how she really needed to do her washing—and where was that bloody strapless bra?

"I'm wounded, Ginny," Draco drawled, absently picking up the undergarment from the open drawer and handing it to her. "Have you forgotten that it was at one of those same charity balls that we became friends?"

"Oh, I remember," Ginny said, accepting the bra from him and then made a snatch for the matching knickers he was dangling before her eyes. "You told me my dress looked like a Kneazle had sicked up on it and that my shoes belonged in a museum."

He laughed pleasantly. "I did, didn't I?"

Ginny glared at him. "It's not funny."

"Maybe not for you, but it was for me. You never did have much fashion sense."

"Add in a 'not until I came along' and your mission to prove to me how insufferably egotistical you are will be complete."

His eyes glittered with playful mockery. Ginny thought not for the first time what a waste it was that he was gay. He really was an incredibly handsome man, with striking features, impossibly grey eyes, and hair that was as soft and pale as moonlight. Everything about him was flawless, right down to his impeccable taste in clothes—something she had always found unfair. It wasn't right that a man could look prettier than her.

The man in question simply smirked. "Can't deny it when it's the truth, love. Though I don't know if even my expertise can save you from some of your purchases." He held up a pastel-blue bra, and his smirk twisted into an expression of acute distaste. "Pastels, Ginny? Really?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and shoved past him as she headed into the adjoining bathroom, not even bothering to shut the door properly. The sound of running water soon followed, and through the gap a camisole and black boy shorts could be seen fluttering to the ground, obviously removed in haste. Draco stared for a moment and caught a glimpse of shapely thighs and the soft swell of a woman's breasts before the shower curtain was drawn; then all he could see was a collection of multi-coloured ducks and what might have been the vague shape of a female body.

Clearing his throat slightly, he glanced away from the partly open door and became absorbed with her bedroom curtains.

"You know, Ginny," he called over the sound of the shower, "I don't mean to lecture, but you should really consider closing your door before you get undressed when you have male company."

A peal of laughter bubbled out from the bathroom.

"Been perving, Draco?" she taunted. "Don't worry, oh-concerned-one, it's only you who I stand on no ceremony with. Any other guy wouldn't even make it to the bedroom."

"I'm flattered, I'm sure," Draco observed wryly.

There was another gurgle of laughter and then he heard the click of a shampoo bottle being opened and shut. Draco moved away from the bathroom to examine the knickknacks scattered on Ginny's bedside table, only half-listening to the redhead serenading him with her own version of _Do The Hippogriff, _with much off-key screeching. He pulled a face at the novel she was reading—trashy romance, as usual—and then glanced back at the ajar door. The blurry outline of a woman's body could be seen through the duck curtain, twisting and turning in what might have been a dance while she shampooed her hair. Draco frowned and looked away.

"I'll be in the kitchen, Ginny!" he said abruptly, already making his way out of her bedroom. "Don't take too long!"

A particularly loud rendition of "Can you dance like a hippogriff" was all he got in reply. It was only when Ginny emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, nicely clean, and with a towel wrapped around her body, that she realised Draco was no longer in the room.

"Draco?" she called, coming out of the bedroom.

The blond glanced up from the kitchen table, where a cup of coffee and a plate of cereal were waiting for her.

"You made me breakfast?" she asked in astonishment.

"I did, but you won't be eating it looking like that. For Merlin's sake, girl, go and put some clothes on!"

Ginny poked her tongue out in response but did as she was bid. When she emerged again, she was dressed in loose shorts and an ill-fitting T-shirt. Draco barely repressed a shudder.

"Oh, harden up, Draco," she snapped, seating herself at the table and pulling the bowl of cereal towards her. "It's just clothes."

"Those are not clothes. Those are—"

"Monstrosities," Ginny finished for him, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I know. But they're also damn comfy."

Draco pursed his lips, but he apparently knew a losing fight when he saw one and said nothing. Ginny inwardly smiled, pleased that she had won that battle, though she doubted she'd be so lucky when it came to finding a dress for tonight. As a professional stylist, Draco was ruthless when it came to choosing an outfit—he did have an image to maintain. Unfortunately, this obsessive need to look perfect also extended to those he associated with. Ginny normally managed to wriggle her way out of his grasp, claiming that Quidditch players didn't need to dress like fashion models on a catwalk, but tonight she had no choice but to submit to his rule. Unless, of course, she managed to impress him with something from her own wardrobe.

"So'f picked u'm ne'ss la'ft week," Ginny said while chewing on a mouthful of cereal.

Draco looked at her with a pained expression. "I'm sorry, all I'm hearing is 'Chomp, Chomp, Chomp'. If you want me to understand you, don't talk with your mouth full. Honestly, Ginevra, what did your mother teach you?"

Ginny made a point of swallowing her food in the most exaggerated way possible. "I said I bought a new dress last week."

One of his perfectly shaped eyebrows lifted. "And?"

"And so I thought I could wear that tonight."

Draco gave her what she liked to call the 'I pity you, poor creature' look. Ginny's ire rose in response.

"You could at least give me a chance!" she snapped. "It's not like I'm completely useless."

He was still giving her The Look, but he held his hands out in an appeasing gesture. "Very well, show me this dress of yours. But if I'm not happy with it, you have to wear what I choose."

"Fine," Ginny agreed.

She pushed her coffee and cereal aside and then went back into her bedroom, rummaging around in her cupboard until she came across the purple dress she had bought. It was the nicest item in her wardrobe. She was certain Draco would not be able to scoff at it.

Ginny tugged off her shorts and T-shirt and then put on the dress, smoothing it down with satisfaction as she looked at herself in the mirror. She thought she looked quite good, and the dress was still loose enough to make her not feel like she was being consumed alive by a snake. Draco, however, was not quite as enthused.

"No," he said flatly before she had even made it through the door. "You are not wearing that."

"Oh, come on, Draco. It's a nice dress!" Ginny insisted, placing her hands on her hips.

He stood up and walked towards her, eyeing the outfit with disfavour. "That is _not_ a dress; that is a curtain disguised as an article of clothing, and I will not be going to this Charity Ball with Saggy Patty on my arm."

"Saggy Patty?" Ginny echoed, going a bit red in the face.

Draco sighed and, before she could even get out a word of protest, reached down to cup her breasts in his hands, holding them up so that she had perfect cleavage. "That, Ginevra," he said calmly, ignoring her spluttering and shoving, "is what your breasts should look like. You're a woman, aren't you? I think it's about time you start learning to use your assets."

Ginny finally managed to push his hands away. "Bloody hell, Draco! For a guy who scolds me for leaving my bathroom door open while getting changed, you certainly don't seem to have any qualms about groping me."

His cheeks went a bit pink, as if he had only just realised the significance of what he had done. "That was different. I was just trying to show you from a professional perspective what—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Ginny interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. "You're lucky I trust you, otherwise you'd be clutching your balls in pain right now."

Draco grimaced. "Right."

There was a moment of silence, and then Ginny's lips twitched into a grin as she looked at him. "I suppose this is where you do the whole 'let's give you a makeover' thing and I squeal for joy?"

A smile touched his eyes. "No, this is where I say we go and find something for you to wear that doesn't look like a curtain and you don't squeal at all. What do you take me for, a woman?"

"You're more anal attentive about clothes than any woman I know, so you might as well be one."

He rolled his eyes. "Trust me, Ginevra, whatever my occupation, I am _no_ woman."

Ginny felt a little shiver of heat ripple through her body and was quite surprised at her own reaction. The words had been said simply enough, but the intensity behind them spoke of desire and passion and something inherently masculine. She glanced back at his gorgeously defined face and repressed a sigh. It really was a pity he was gay.

"Had enough gawking?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just wondering how long it took for you to get your hair so perfectly coiffed this morning," Ginny said sweetly.

He rolled his eyes again and took her by the arm. "Let's go, heathen. It's time I taught you about _real_ style."

**oOo**

She couldn't breathe.

The dress she was wearing was so tight that her ribs felt like they were cracking with every breath she took. She also had never realised how prominent her breasts were, or maybe that was just because the in-built corset had somehow managed to push her 'assets', as Draco called them, all the way to her neck.

"This is ridiculous," Ginny called from behind the changing room curtain. "My boobs are practically popping out of this dress, if you can even call it a dress! Feels more like a torture device to me. I won't even be able to eat in this thing, let alone breathe!"

"Good," was the unsympathetic reply. "If you can't eat, then you can't embarrass me with your poor table manners. Now come out so I can see you."

Ginny muttered something unflattering under her breath and walked out from behind the curtain, standing before him with a 'hex me now' expression. Draco's eyes widened slightly.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that," he muttered.

"Expecting what?" she demanded.

"Nothing. You just—" he sucked in a small breath "—well, you look beautiful."

Pink blossomed on her cheeks. "Really?"

He came up behind her and gently turned her around so that they were both facing the mirror. Ginny felt the heat of his touch burn her skin and almost broke out of his hold in surprise. What was wrong with her?

"Look," he murmured, and she could feel his breath brush against her neck like the lightest of butterfly kisses. "Look at yourself, Ginevra. Can't you see how beautiful you are? A real woman. A goddess."

Ginny swallowed hard, feeling her heart pound in a rapid tattoo against her chest, though it had nothing to do with how she looked and everything to do with Draco Malfoy's proximity. She could feel his presence surrounding her like a sun of burning energy, and she realised this was the closest he had actually ever been to her. It was strange and unsettling. He touched her so harmlessly, yet there was something undeniably sensual about the way he slid his hand down her arm to rest on her waist, pressing lightly into the fabric covering her skin as he shifted her into a different angle.

She exhaled sharply, eyes locked on their intertwined reflections, yet blind to everything she was seeing. This was so wrong. He was gay. He liked _men_, not to mention was her friend, yet here he was making her feel like a deep, slow burning flame was coming to life inside her, stretching out its fiery fingers to ignite some intrinsically feminine part of herself. It was unbearable and unavoidable: a string of desire pulling gently and then sharply, demanding to be satisfied. Ginny realised that she wanted to kiss him, and she wanted to kiss him _hard_.

Her eyes shifted to his in the mirror, drawn into the stormy grey. His face was so close—all she would have to do was reach up and pull his head down, then his lips would be free for hers to taste, to explore. Her blood quickened at the thought, and her hand was almost extended when something completely unexpected happened: Draco glanced down at her, arm still curled loosely around her waist, and then, as if he had always known what he was going to do, he lowered his face and pressed his mouth lightly against hers. Ginny gasped at the contact and pulled back, surprised at the shock of energy that went from her lips straight to her blood.

"Sorry," he muttered, releasing her and taking a step back. "That was uncalled for."

"Uncalled for?" Ginny repeated, still trying to gather her wits. "I'm still trying to figure out why you would even want to kiss me. I thought you were gay!"

A crease formed on his brow as he tried to digest what she had just said, and then his eyes flashed in a mixture of anger and disbelief. "You thought I was gay?" he demanded incredulously.

She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Well, aren't you?"

"Of course not! I like women. _Women_," he repeated when she continued to stare at him in confusion. "You know, breasts and long legs, and—gods, I can't believe you thought I was gay!"

Ginny felt her stomach drop several feet. "You mean you really aren't gay?"

"Haven't I just been telling you that?" He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled humourlessly to himself. "And to think, here I've been trying to play the gentleman, not wanting to take advantage of you for prancing around half-naked in front of me whenever I come over to your house, and all this time you thought I was gay. In fact, all my efforts probably only confirmed your suspicions!"

"B-but you're a professional stylist," Ginny stammered. "And you're obsessed with clothes and colour schemes, and—"

"Damn it, Ginny, just because a man likes to dress well and actually has some taste doesn't mean he is gay! Goyle's a security guard and doesn't have a whit of fashion sense, but he's most definitely gay." Draco gave a rather bitter smile. "Oh, of course, but Goyle can't be gay because he doesn't like clothes or know how to decorate a room, right? I suppose you're now going to accuse me of liking men because I attend the theatre as well."

Ginny lowered her face in shame, feeling her mortification lick her skin with painful clarity—a very different heat to that which Draco had made her feel earlier. To say she felt like an idiot was an understatement. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole and keep her in its comforting darkness forever, or at least whisk her away from Draco Malfoy's presence. Even worse was the knowledge that she really had been so careless with her body around him, and just today had let him see her practically naked. He must have thought her such a tramp.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Ginny mumbled. "I was stupid and jumped to conclusions."

"You certainly jumped to conclusions alright," he rejoined, looking at her in what could have been amused exasperation, but was mostly just exasperation. "Why didn't you just ask me if you thought I was gay? We've known each other long enough."

Ginny shrugged. "I thought you didn't want to display your sexuality openly. Pureblood views and all that. Besides, I never saw you paying any attention to the other females, so I just assumed—"

His sudden bark of laughter made her trail off into silence, though he didn't seem particularly annoyed this time, of which she was grateful.

"Oh, Ginny, you really can be so stupid sometimes," he said bluntly, still shaking his head in amusement. "If you really want to know, the reason I don't pay any attention to those other females is because for a while now my eyes have been focussed solely on you."

"Me?" she exclaimed, hardly daring to believe her ears.

"Yes, you. I've been in love with you for months—terrible fashion sense and all. I was just waiting for you to show an interest in return, but clearly that was never going to happen since you seem to have been under the impression I was playing Seeker for the other side."

She bit back a laugh. "I can't believe this."

Draco gripped her by the arms, holding her closer as he stared intently into her eyes. "You'd better start believing it, Ginevra, because I'm dead serious. I'm in love with you, and now that you know I'm not bloody gay like you thought, I'm hoping you'll give me that response I've been waiting for."

A mischievous smile curved her lips. "You really want my answer?"

"Yes, damn you! And after all that—"

She pressed a hand against his mouth, silencing his impatient exclamations. He stared at her in confusion, and the mischief that had been hinted in her smile was suddenly dancing in her eyes. Keeping her gaze locked with his, she slowly removed her hand from his mouth, her face inches from his.

"This is my answer," she murmured, and then she closed the distance between them and kissed him full on the mouth.

Draco smiled against her lips, pulling back slightly to meet her gaze. "I guess I was wrong," he observed, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her close. "You do have some taste, after all."

* * *

><p><strong>My Prompt:<strong>

**Basic outline:** For whatever reason (be it his job, close friends with another guy, anal attention to his clothes, yadda yadda), Ginny thinks that Draco is gay and so behaves around him in very different way to that of other men who she might consider potential boyfriend material. You can interpret that however you like - maybe she's less conscious about her body (and the showing of it), maybe she just behaves more loosely around him, etc, etc. It's up to you. The point is she thinks he is gay and he most definitely is not, and eventually that is going to become obvious.

**Must Haves:** Draco demanding incredulously, "You thought I was gay?", Ginny being mortified when she realises her mistake.

**No-No's:** Ginny can't outrightly ask Draco if he is gay.

**Word Length:** None.

**Bonus points:** If Draco and Ginny are somewhat friends. They don't have to be super close, but I think the nature of this prompt calls for them to at least be able to interact regularly with each other anyway.

**Deadline:** 25 July 2011, closes midnight forum time.


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